


You Say His Name

by Shironeko_kohai



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It, M/M, POV Second Person, Temporary Character Death, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shironeko_kohai/pseuds/Shironeko_kohai
Summary: He dies in your arms. He dies in your arms and you still can’t bring yourself to admit that you loved him, that you still love him, that you will never stop loving him. He dies in your arms and you are not allowed to love him, because he is not Her, and you have only ever allowed yourself to love Her. (He dies in your arms and She comes to lead him to the underworld, and as She leads him away, they smile the exact same smile and their hair frames their faces in the exact same way and you’re not quite sure how you didn’t see it before.)





	You Say His Name

**Author's Note:**

> the working title of this was "a canon compliant fix-it? oh worm?" so like... don't take anything I do too seriously I guess

He dies in your arms. He dies in your arms and you still can’t bring yourself to admit that you loved him, that you still love him, that you will never stop loving him. He dies in your arms and you are not allowed to love him, because he is not Her, and you have only ever allowed yourself to love Her. (He dies in your arms and She comes to lead him to the underworld, and as She leads him away, they smile the exact same smile and their hair frames their faces in the exact same way and you’re not quite sure how you didn’t see it before.)

His body lies in your lap as you claw at your chest, wishing you had brought your sword to put yourself out of the absolute fucking misery of having to see him dead at your hands for the second time. You don’t even have to try not to scream as your slowly regenerating skin yields to your fingertips and exposes raw flesh; you clench your teeth in anticipation of it, but the noise never rises in your throat. In its place, a small sob comes from you as you stare at him. The last thing you see before succumbing to exhaustion is steam rising from the mixture of your blood and tears pooling on his clavicle.

The first time you wake, all you can see is his concerned eyes boring into you, and your first thought is not that he is alive (so,  _ so _ alive), but that he is beautiful. (He has always been beautiful. He has always been beautiful, but you would not allow yourself to think those words until after his death.) He cries out your name and you choke out his and everything is black again, but this time you feel so warm you’re not sure it matters.

The second time you wake, it is to the empty cavern you knew awaited you after your final false vision of him faded your eyes, or so you thought. Or so you think, until the nerves in your side regenerate and you can finally feel his body nestled under your arm, his legs overlapping with yours. His  _ legs. _ He is alive and you are alive and there is no one here to hurt you and for the first time in your life, you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay. For the first time in your life, you are free. For the first time in your life, you are allowed to be a person instead of a failed experiment. (For the first time in your life, you are allowed to love him.)

You say his name again, but this time it is the wind and the fields in your dreams about Her (about him) and you do not feel rushed because there is nothing here that can hurt you. Nothing here that can hurt him. (Nothing but you, that is, but you have already hurt him more than enough for two lifetimes.)

He does not respond. He does not respond, and you panic for a second before you hear him breathing in soft snuffs against your chest. (He is so warm. You do not remember him being this warm, or at least you don’t remember ever having allowed yourself to notice it.) Something lands on his cheek, and you tense for a moment before realizing that you are crying for the first time in years. You are crying and he is alive and in your arms and in this one moment, you are unstoppable, untouchable, immovable, and then he looks up at you and you are suddenly the most vulnerable you have ever been because  _ what if something happens to him what if he gets hurt what if it’s my fault  _ and then he reaches up to brush the tears from your cheeks and his hand is so real and he is so alive and you are together and that’s more than you’ve had for years. He is more than you’ve had for years.

He smiles up at you, and you are not sure if you’ve wanted anything as much as you want to kiss him right now, right here propped up against a pillar, covered in blood and dirt and tears, and you are completely in awe of him. Completely in awe of this boy who you’ve watched die too many times, this boy who is not dead despite all  the times he’s been killed. Despite all the times you’ve killed him.

He laughs, and you can no longer feel anything but his breath on your chin until something warm and wet falls onto your chest and you realize that he is crying, that you are both crying, and then you laugh harder than you have in years and you are both laughing and crying at the thought of being allowed to exist. Of being allowed to love each other.

He kisses you, and you aren’t sure who’s blood is on his lips (or is it on your lips?) but you know that you don’t care, because you could live forever right here, right in this moment. Right in his arms.

Eventually, you will have to move. Eventually, you will have to find an inn and some clothes and people who won’t ask questions. Eventually, you will have to figure out how to protect him from the Order without faking your own death, (They would find out. They always find out.) but for now you are both alive and he is in your arms and you think that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.


End file.
